Finding Traction in the Black Afternoon
It’s been another day of constant technological rebellion, exponentially worse than yesterday. Despite having sputtered an exasperated "fuck!" every few minutes, I’ve done well to remain relatively calm.
Finally I got my first laugh in the workplace. For some reason that I haven’t untangled yet, The Good Doctor sent me an e-mail with which came a Word file titled: movementsextraction. Probably it’s supposed to be movements extraction, but I read it first to be movement sex traction, or Movement: Sex Traction, as in a cultural push for change. No more slippery fucking. We’ll tract and chafe with the best of them, we will.
p.s. Somebody send me home before I climb in the fax machine. Oh, yeah, it’s broken.
Finally I got my first laugh in the workplace. For some reason that I haven’t untangled yet, The Good Doctor sent me an e-mail with which came a Word file titled: movementsextraction. Probably it’s supposed to be movements extraction, but I read it first to be movement sex traction, or Movement: Sex Traction, as in a cultural push for change. No more slippery fucking. We’ll tract and chafe with the best of them, we will.
p.s. Somebody send me home before I climb in the fax machine. Oh, yeah, it’s broken.
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